Currents
by Raven's Wing
Summary: Wade's mama told him once that no river runs both ways. He wishes she was wrong because then maybe he could be with Zoe Hart and not end up getting hurt. [post season 3 finale]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing related to any CW universe including, but not limited to, characters, names of places, lyrics, dialogue, or any other piece of product. CW retains all the rights to their universes. I am making no money or receiving any kind of compensation, material or non-material, for this fiction. It's all for fun. Please don't sue me. I do claim the writing, the idea behind this particular narrative, and any peripheral characters or locations created to augment CW's work.

**A/N**: Because I am addicted to crap TV and this is one of my favorite shows. I need season four to start. Yesterday.

Except not because I do not want them to deal with Rachel Bilson's pregnancy. UGH. This show should not give me this many feelings.

**o000o**

Zoe Hart's strongest allegiance is to herself, and Wade knows that. As long as she gets what she wants, when she wants it, she is happy. The rest is collateral damage. He's been part of that damage a time or two before, so shame on her for thinking he'll just dive in. Shame on her, dammit, shame on her.

But shame on him because it has been three days since the wedding weekend from hell and the only thing he can think about is the shape of her mouth when it wrapped around the words _I love you. _He knows he has way better things to think about. He isn't sure what those things are at the moment, but he knows they are there.

His mama always said that knowing is half of the battle.

Whatever the hell that means.

**o000o**

He doesn't know what to do with himself.

The night air sticks to his skin, thick and hot, and he should go work on the busted box unit in his window but he doesn't. It is late and it will be noisy. The last thing he needs is Little-Miss-High-and-Mighty storming over here in one of Joel's old t-shirts and lecturing him on respecting others need for sleep. Or maybe that is exactly what he does need. Not the lecture, but her.

No.

He's been down that road. So has she. Hell they went down it together and it didn't end well.

He goes to his fridge instead and looks inside. He has just enough beer to get good and drunk if he drinks them all in a row.

That is just what he does.

**o000o**

"Well hello there stranger." She slides up to his bar. "What are the odds of finding you here?"

He owns the place, so the odds are excellent. He knows she knows that. Just like he knows she spent time practicing that opening line in her mirror.

It is just after the morning rush at the Rammer Jammer. She calculated the best time to trap him in this conversation because she calculates everything down to the frilly blouse she is wearing that would have been downright modest if it wasn't as thin as a mosquito wing.

"You're the one who is good at math. You tell me." His head is foggy from last night's beer and he leans his elbows on the bar to brace himself for the onslaught.

"So… it has been a couple of days since, you know, I pledged my undying devotion or whatever. I just wanted you to know that I am still totally on board with that _and_…" She digs into her designer purse and pulls out a small wrapped box. "Ta-da! In case for some reason you didn't take me seriously - I got you a present."

She sets the box on the bar and it is the only thing more out of place in this bar than the petite New York City doctor. The package is pristine down the invisible tape on measured wrapping paper with a jazzy bow on top. Up against the scarred sticky wood of his bar - it is the perfect visual aid for just how different two people could be.

"Look - Zoe -" He starts, but she holds up one hand.

"You don't have to open it now. I know. I get it. This is going to take time. There is a lot going on right now and we haven't had the greatest luck - but I want you to have it." She pushes the box towards him and it takes every ounce of self-control not to move away from it like a rattler poised to bite. "Take it. Open it. Whenever. Whatever. Because _I _am patient and _I _can wait for you to be ready on your own time."

She tries her best to be casual, but she is practically twitching with nervous energy and makes him uncomfortable.

"Yeah. Sure, Doc."

He knows she wants him to say more - do more - but he cannot. Not here, not now. Not when she is flittering like a hummingbird and his head is full of cotton. Why in the hell did she have to wear _those_ shorts?

Wade pushes back off of his elbows and throws his bar rag over his shoulder. He does not touch the package. He did the grand gesture thing for her before, and then she included him in a mass email telling Bluebell to go suck an egg. He anger boils up at the memory, both at her and at himself for still letting it matter so much, and it is about time she get a taste of her own medicine.

"You're seriously not going to open it?" Glossed lips hand open in disbelief and there's his girl. Patient his ass.

"I'm doing it on my time. Seems like I remember someone saying that would be just fine." He pushes her buttons, anger swelling.

"Yeah. Okay. Right. Great." She forces enthusiasm and plasters on a smile which makes him angrier. He hates when she does that. Hates when she pushes down her fight to pacify anyone. "Well. If I don't go now - I will be late. You know how Brick loves to rub it in my face when I am late."

He did. He shrugs tight shoulders, trying to not look at the package or at her. He fails at both.

"Great. Then. Goodbye Wade." She does that awkward head bow thing that she does whenever anything is even the slightest bit awkward or serious.

"Goodbye, Doc." He doesn't nod back.

The second she leaves, he throws the little box on the top shelf behind the Goldschlager and does his damndest not to think about it.

It takes him a solid week before it is the only thing he can think about.

**o000o**

He swears if she uses the fuse box as an excuse to see him again, he will reconsider the merits of the Amish lifestyle. At least the no electricity part. He could always use Lavon's fridge for milk.

It is the eleventh day in a row that the fuse box blows and he knows she will be waiting there with a pastry or coffee or some cleavage and he is just not in the mood. This is the week that Earl gets his government check and Wade is just waiting for his dad to turn back into a screw up. Because that is what happens in his life. Things don't just stay good. They didn't with his mom, or his dad, or Zoe, or Vivian, and there is no way he is going to add Zoe Again to his list of failures.

He is a backwards Cinderella story with way more beer.

Zoe is not at the fuse box today though. There is no pastry, coffee, or cleavage and he is only really upset about one of those three. He flips a few breakers and does his level best to not think about why Zoe wasn't waiting for him for him.

What if she finally fried herself with that damn fancy coffee machine? Or critically burned her hand with a curling iron? Or taken a hairdryer into the tub with her? He knows how those stories go.

He also knows that it is none of his damn business to go to that cottage house across the lake and knock on her door. That is the job of a boyfriend, or Lavon, or the sheriff, or anyone else but him. He goes anyway because if something _had_ happened to her and he didn't do anything - well - that would be hard to swallow. It isn't that he cares.

Because he doesn't.

He's just being neighborly.

He gives three sharp raps and then he loops his thumbs into his jeans and tries not to think about what he is doing. He won't go in, no matter what. He's already told himself that. No extraordinary measures.

Wait. Extraordinary measures? He'd heard her say that once, about keeping someone alive, and the memory spooks him. What if she _is _ dead and he found her like that?

No. He cannot do that. He will not. People being neighborly do not bust into other people's homes and find them dead.

He waits seventeen seconds, not quite able to make it to twenty he tells himself he'll wait, and he is down the porch steps when the door rattles behind him.

"Wade?" Her voice catches him mid-step.

She is fine, and relief is secondary to how much he feels like an idiot.

"Uh - hey Doc." He rubs the back of his neck and turns around.

She is fresh out of the shower. Her body is wrapped in that giant old robe with a towel around her hair. He knows just what she would smell like if he got close enough.

"Did you need something?"

"No - uh - just wanted you to know I fixed the fuse box." He rocks onto his toes and looks across the lake. "I'm off to the Rammer Jammer now though, so if you blow it again, it is up to you."

He turns on his heel to go, angry for caring if she was anything but fine, and her voice catches him again.

"Hey!"

He looks back over his shoulder.

"Thanks."

She smiles. He smiles and looks at his feet.

"Anytime, Doc." He means it. He hates how much he means it.

He knows she watches him walk away.

**o000o**

"What exactly are your intentions with Zoe?" Lavon asks.

It is pancake morning at the mayor's house and Zoe is long gone to start her day at the practice leaving the two men alone.

"What do you mean?" Wade shoves a bite into his mouth to not have to say more.

"Do you love her?"

The pancakes turn to dirt in his mouth.

"Lavon."

"It's a simple question."

Like hell it is.

"Zoe and I - we've done this before. We've tried. It didn't work."

"That's not what I asked."

"What you asked doesn't matter."

"Seems to me like it matters a great deal."

Wade sets his fork down and rubs a hand over his face.

"Nothing is going to happen." He feels each word heavy on his tongue because saying it out loud makes it real.

Lavon leans back against his counter and folds his arms across his chest.

"Why don't I believe that?" He asks.

Wade looks at his half-finished plate and no pancakes are worth this interrogation. He shovels one last huge bite in his mouth before hopping out of his stool and heading towards the door.

"Don't rightly know," Wade manages around his food. "But since you're so good at asking questions, maybe you should work on getting better at answering them."

"Wade..." Lavon only uses this voice when he is about to launch into some big speech. Wade does not plan on giving him that chance.

"That new fuse box is on the fritz again. You may want to check your warranty on that thing."

He is out the door before Lavon can say another word.

**o000o**

It was easier when it was war between them. Or at least when it was war for him. Hating Zoe is so much easier than - well - anything else.

So he tries to hate her. He tries to be annoyed with all the little things she does, with all the big things she does, with everything about her but, dammit, he can't. He can't find one reason to think she is anything but perfect for him.

But she isn't.

If she really was perfect for him, they would be together. That was how perfect worked. So they are not perfect.

Not even close, but somehow that is perfect. They are both fucked beyond reason

The way that his heart keeps interfering with his head is twice as infuriating as anything Zoe does.

Hating her isn't the easiest thing anymore, but hating himself has always been second nature.

**o000o**

There is a spot on Zoe's neck which he knows, from experience, makes her knees buckles when he bites it just right.

Whenever he can talk to her, or look at her, or stand in the same room as her without fixating on that spot he rewards himself. Since casual sex (and its consequences) has lost its appeal, his reward often comes in liquid form.

He rewards himself an awful lot.

**o000o**

It is Tom and Wanda's pregnancy announcement party (which was ridiculous in his opinion because _the entire town_ already knows) but he goes anyway. Hell - he was Tom's best man (though he still does not quite understand how that happened). The Long's house is packed to the gills, but Wade stays on the fringes in direct sight of the exit in case the evening gets too weird.

Not that the whole thing isn't weird to begin with and Wade would have been long gone, but Meatball brings some moonshine. Wade fills a glass and takes a sip whenever anything freaks him out. Which is pretty often, all things considered.

There are games about guessing the gender, predicting the due date, and Wade is watching a dizzy Cricket try to pin the bundle on the stork when Zoe walks in.

She is dressed like this is the social event of the season with a skirt up to _there_ and heels that defy the laws of physics. Her clothes are all dark sparkles and lots of skin, but he cannot say he minds the view. That is until she spots him almost as quickly as he spotted her and beelines for him.

She walks like she is on a mission, and Wade knows from experience that he is in trouble. Good view be damned, she had a plan and that was terrifying.

"I didn't know you were going to be here." She says as she gets close and he almost believes her.

"Well, Tom invited half the town and Wanda invited the other half. Seems like you had as good of chance as ever." He shoves his free hand into his jeans pocket because he doesn't trust his hands around her when she is dressed like this. Especially when he has a good moonshine buzz going.

"Invited and actually showing up are two different things though." She says.

"I'm here for Tom." Truth is he hasn't said so much as 'hello' to the guy, but she doesn't need to know that.

"Yeah? That's cool. I guess I am here for both of them. I _was_ kind of instrumental in getting them here, after all." She isn't gloating, but something about the way she says it irks him.

"Getting people pregnant isn't something most people brag about, Doc. If it was, I could stop wearing condoms." He isn't being nice and he knows it but he really cannot stand here and talk to her looking like _that_ and not make some kind of stupid decision.

"Ew. Wade!" She slaps his arm.

"I'm just sayin', Doc. People a lot dumber than me have been knocking people up for as long as we've walked God's green earth."

"Sometimes it isn't that simple."

"And sometimes it is."

She is angry. He can tell by the set of her high-gloss lips and dammit if he doesn't want to taste them. He looks over the top of her head and takes a swallow.

"Look. I'm the one with the medical degree here. I think I know a thing or two about making babies."

"Seems like I remember having to teach you quite a bit."

The moonshine still burns in his throat, but he takes another mouthful because he doesn't want to hurt her but he cannot have her standing in front of him looking so damn edible.

Her mouth hangs open, smile long gone, and there is that spark in her eye that lets him know she is done playing nice. He grits his teeth.

"What is your problem?" Not loud enough to draw attention, but this is not polite conversation anymore.

"What is _your_ problem?" Immature at best, but seriously.

"_I _don't have a problem! _I_ am the one who is expressing their feelings like an adult and is trying to be honest." She spreads her arms and more people take notice.

"Oh you want honest?" He shouldn't, but he is so damn tired of her high horse.

"Yeah. That would be nice!" The music seems louder now because people have stopped talking and are watching them but he is too drunk to care.

"Okay. Well - here's your honest." He _really _shouldn't. "I am not your damn placeholder, Zoe Hart." Her name slur together.

Her brow furrows. "What?"

He really, _really _shouldn't, but doing what he should do is not his strong suit.

"I am not your backup plan, Zoe. You don't get to -" He pauses and looks at her. There is no going back after this. "Just because you got lonely for Joel at a wedding and because Golden Boy George isn't interested in you at the moment doesn't mean you get to say you love me in front of the whole damn town!"

He is louder than he means to be and the festivities grind to a halt. Everyone is watching now. Zoe's eyes are bright with tears, and he looks away. He takes two deep swallows and focuses on the burn.

"Is that really what you think?" She isn't loud now. Her voice quakes and dammit he _won't_ feel bad for telling the truth. He won't, but he does.

"Yeah. Yeah I guess it is."

He doesn't watch her leave.

**o000o**

It is four in the morning before he stumbles home and he is still drunk. It is the kind of drunk where everything fuzzes around the edges and nothing hurts and you can do _anything_. You can _say anything, _and that doctor's house is just a stone's throw away.

He pounds the door.

Nothing.

He pounds again.

"Zoe!"

He turns the handle and it is unlocked. Seems the New York City has bled out of her a bit more than she likes to let on.

She meets him at the door to her bedroom, disheveled and perfect, and he cannot help himself.

"I'm so sorry." He gets out, but that is all. He's not even sure what he is sorry for at this point or if he even is sorry, but he feels like he should apologize. He made her cry. He hadn't meant to do that. It's just... fuck.

He grabs her face and kisses her.

He gets lost in the electricity of tongues and teeth. She tastes just like he remembered, feels twice as good, and he could do this forever. She doesn't let him.

Tiny hands shove his shoulders and he stumbles back a step.

"Wade! What the hell?"

He wishes he knew.

"Zoe - I…" But he cannot find the words. She deserved his honesty but, dammit, he does not want to hurt her. Not again.

"Get out!" She shoves him again, but he doesn't move. "Get out!" She shoves again, this time with her whole weight, and he wavers.

"Zoe..."

"Get out!"

"But -"

"I swear if you don't get out -"

He hooks a hand around her neck and kisses her again. He tries to show her what he cannot say. Words have never served him well. Words got him here and it is nowhere he wants to be.

She bites him. Hard. He yanks back.

"You're drunk." She steps out of his reach.

He tastes blood where she split his lip.

"Zoe -"

"Go home, Wade. You don't get to use me as a placeholder either."

She shoves him again and this time he staggers back.

The door locks after she slams it in his face.

**o000o**

**A/N**: This is going to be a two (possibly three) shot. Nothing major. Just plot-bunnies running wild and ruining my more intense projects in the Frozen and Tangled AND Marvel universes.

Want to harass me into writing the next part? Follow me on twitter: **ravenswrite**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing related to any CW universe including, but not limited to, characters, names of places, lyrics, dialogue, or any other piece of product. CW retains all the rights to their universes. I am making no money or receiving any kind of compensation, material or non-material, for this fiction. It's all for fun. Please don't sue me. I do claim the writing, the idea behind this particular narrative, and any peripheral characters or locations created to augment CW's work.

**A/N**: I do not remember if Wanda works at the Rammer Jammer at the end of season 3, but for this fic she does.

**o000o**

He has no idea what time it is, but gauging by the light streaming in through his windows it isn't early. His eyes feel like sandpaper. His mouth tastes like chalk. As reality begins to filter back in, he realizes that there is a separate pounding going on outside of his throbbing skull.

He rolls over, still dressed from head to toe from the night before, and looks to his door.

He'd know that silhouette anywhere and last night all comes rushing back. Dammit. How did Meatball's moonshine always get him to make the worst decisions?

"Wade! I know you're in there! Open up!" She pounds again, and it feels like his brain is trying to crawl out from behind his eyeballs. He needs a hundred asprin, some orange juice, and six more hours of sleep. It doesn't look like he'll be getting any of those things soon.

He pushes up and shuffles to the door anyway because she's broken into his place before. He doesn't want to replace any more windows. He braces himself and pushes open the door.

There she is, one hundred pounds of fire, and he can't take his eyes off of her.

"Morning, Doc." He chokes on the frog in his throat.

"Try 'good afternoon'. It is a quarter past five." She looks him up and down. "You look awful."

He tries to push past his ever mounting nausea and smirk, but it doesn't quite work.

"Well aren't you sweet."

She is inside before he knows it, breezing past him before he has a chance to say no.

"Sorry." She says, like she is apologizing for taking more than she was offered, for invading his space like she always does. "We need to talk about last night." She wrings her hands, claiming the area in front of his couch as he shuts the door.

She is right, but the thought turns his stomach. He doesn't want to talk. Seems like that is always the best way to dig any hole he is in deeper.

"Zoe - look -"

She interrupts. "I forgive you."

The words stagger him.

It takes him a moment. "You what?"

"I forgive you. For everything." She repeats and the way she says _everything _makes him feel sicker. She should be on a war march for his blood, not be standing in front of him all doe-eyed and merciful.

When he cannot quite pinpoint the real reason his whole body heats and chills at her words, he blames the hangover.

"Don't. Don't do that." He crosses his arms and looks at his feet. He still has his shoes on. Meatball's fucking moonshine.

"Why not?"

It is a good question. It is the right question. He searches for the right answer in the swirling pit of his stomach , and grabs the first thing he can get his hands on.

"Because -" He looks up at the ceiling. "I don't want you to."

She blinks.

"What?"

"I don't want you to."

Her face scrunches. "Oh-kay. I don't understand."

He knows she doesn't. He doesn't quite understand himself, but he feels it. He feels it all the way to his core.

He exhales, too tired and sick to be anything less than blunt: "You're a fixer, Doc. Goes with your job description, but you can't fix this. So stop trying."

"I am not trying to fix anything. I am trying to forgive you!" She stomps a high-heeled foot.

"You say that, but that's just the thing. You're always saying something." He presses his lips together, fighting a swell of nausea. "You never stop saying things and I am tired of it. You just say stuff without thinking how it could affect the other person because - hell - what does it matter as long as you get what you want?"

It isn't aimed to hurt, but he knows it does. The truth always hurts in one way or another because it is a bitch. Forever and ever. Amen.

"Oh. And you think you're much better?" She puts her hands on her hips. "At least I use my mouth to say things instead of assaulting innocent women with it in the middle of the night."

That smarts, but he matches her posture and smirks through it.

"I thought you said you forgave me."

"I did. I _do_, but that doesn't mean that what you did wasn't crappy." She says, but then something in her face softens, her arms drop. "Last night hurt me, Wade. All of it. Even if I forgive you, that hurt doesn't just disappear."

He knows plenty well about hurt not just disappearing. She'd taught his master class. Familiar walls shoot up around his heart at the thought.

"Then why even bother?" He aims for sass but misses by a mile. He pulls his arms back around himself like a shield.

"You really don't get it, do you?"

She says it like she is amazed, but all he hears through the pain screaming through his head is how he'll never quite measure up_._

"Probably not." He bristles. "No fancy medical degree, here so you better use real little words."

Her eyes shoot wide, backpedaling. "Oh. No. Wade. That isn't what I meant - at all."

She takes one step toward him, he takes one step back, and she looks at him like he is running full speed. He cannot handle her touching him right now. He knows all about the destructive heat those fingers plow under his skin at a single brush. That heat could melt his defenses quicker than a storm blowing up off the coast, and he doesn't want that.

She's left him defenseless one too many times.

"What are you doing here, doc?" And he means it in so much more than the immediate sense. She doesn't belong in Bluebell anymore than he belongs behind a desk in Atlanta. The reality of that makes him feel ancient.

She looks at him with a face torn between exasperation and sadness.

"I am here because I'm fighting for you. For _us_." There are those tears again. "That is why I am trying to forgive you. Yeah you hurt me, but I know - _I know _I have hurt you before just as badly." She holds out a hand, palm up and wanting "So I forgive you. I forgive you because I love you. I want to be with you. You aren't a placeholder. I am fighting for you. Let me?"

He stares at her hand like she thrust a copperhead in his direction. The thought of taking it, of letting her forgive him, fight for him, _love _him makes his stomach churn. He knows what happens the second he takes that hand. He also knows what happens the second that hand gets pulled away because there is a better offer on the table. The thought rises bile in his throat.

"I think it's time for you to go." His words are slow as he stares just past her hand to his floorboards.

He feels the shock roll off of her in waves. The hand pulls back and presses against her stomach. Maybe he isn't the only one who is going to be ill.

"Oh." Like this is nothing she planned or expected. Like this hurts more than it should.

He turns and opens the door, but she doesn't move.

"Wade..."

"I'll see you around, Doc."

He looks back at her, wondering what could be taking so long, and sees her brush at her cheek.

"I love you." She says, teary eyed and all. "I love you." She repeats like a wave breaking on the shore, like it will change something."I love you. I _love _you. _I_ love you, Wade kinsella. I love you!"

It is everything he's wanted to hear but her words turn his stomach worse than any bad shrimp Sal had pushed on him over the years. There are too many things trapped inside of him. There are too many things he wishes he knew how to say. There are too many feelings he'll never quite be able to put into words. He regrets that more than she will ever know.

"Doc - if you don't get out now -" That's all he manages before he bolts to the bathroom.

He barely makes it to the toilet before all that regret comes up and out of him. When he is done, he wipes his mouth and flushes. He is dizzy once he finds his feet and he'll be damned if he ever drinks anything Meatball hands him ever again.

She is still standing there where he left her. A war plays on her face. He can't stand watching it.

"I'm going to make this real easy for you, Doc." He braces himself in the bathroom doorway. "I don't need or want your forgiveness or your help or your love or whatever it is you came over to give me. What I want is for you to get out of my house."

As he speaks, he feels round two bubbling up.

He is shaky after it is done, knees weak and head light, and he rinses his mouth out this time. When he looks out to his living room - she is gone.

Somehow that just makes everything worse.

**o000o**

They avoid each other for three whole days after that morning, which is no small feat in Bluebell. The morning of the fourth day however, that changes.

Wade is up early. He's got a shipment to check into the Rammer Jammer and only has a few minutes to spare when he walks into Lavon's kitchen.

There she is, coffee in her hands matching the dark curls down her back, and his mind goes blank for a second. Of course she'd be there. He should not be surprised, but seeing her there hits him like a ton of bricks.

"Hey Zoe." He aims for a casual smile, but it cracks a bit too wide and he knows he looks panicked.

There is a gruff clearing of a throat and Wade pulls his eyes off the tiny doctor.

"Oh. Hey Lavon."

Lavon raises his eyebrows and Zoe fiddles with her coffee.

"I've gotta run." Zoe looks at Lavon, the counter, her coffee - not Wade. "I'll see you later, Lavon."

She grabs a banana and heads out the door. Wade gives her a wide berth. He is no where near ready to deal with that.

Once the door shuts, Lavon crosses his arms and lowers his chin.

"What did you do?" Lavon stretches the first and last word and Wade breaks a sweat.

"What? I didn't do anything." She was the one walking all over proclaiming her love and acting all superior.

"Then why won't Big Z look at you?"

"Hell if I know. The woman's crazy."

Wade reaches for a mini muffin and Lavon slaps his hand away.

"Hey!"

"Until you tell me what is up with you two, no food." He said, and Wade scoffs.

"Why did she get food then? She is just as much a part of this as I am." He reaches again and Lavon swats harder.

"Ha! So you admit that there is something going on!" Lavon looks like a kid on Christmas morning.

"What? No there isn't." He tries to cover his tracks. "I'm just saying that if there was something going on, which there is not, that it would be more fair if you would be withholding from each party equally."

Lavon likes watching Wade dance and Wade knows it. "Mayor's kitchen, mayor's rules."

Wade's jaw worked, but no words came. It was pretty clear whose side Lavon was on in the latest edition of Zoe and Wade's personal civil war. He threw his hands up.

"Then I guess I'll be seeing you later." Wade headed for the door.

"Wade!"

He slams the door behind him. No mini muffin was worth that.

**o000o**

Shula gave him the evil eye as he passed The Butter Stick. Dash peaked over at him and whispered into his recorder. Rose saw him and turned the other direction.

Wade was used to being the subject of scrutiny and gossip, but this was stupid. He hadn't done anything and they were all treating him like he'd cheated on Zoe all over again. Maybe he should have gone to Atlanta after all.

The final straw was when Delia hit him across the bar with her cane and asked him: "What is wrong with you, turning down our sweet Zoe like that?"

He balled up his bar rag and threw it on the counter.

"I'll be back in fifteen." He shouts to Wanda and marches out the door and straight to Zoe's office.

He busts in without knocking. She is at her desk writing in files and her pen skids across the page in shock.

"Wade! What the hell? You can't just barge in here. What if I was with a patient?" She storms around in front of her desk.

He tries to keep his eyes off the lean flash of her thighs because he is here for a reason.

"Oh yeah? Well then I might have been able to hear what you're telling people about me firsthand." He puts his hands on his hips and dares her to cross him.

Her little mouth drops open, painted red today, and he knows just how it would stain the collar of his shirt.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She says and he almost believes her.

"Oh yeah? Then why did Delia hit me with her cane just now and yell at me for hurting you?"

This time it is her eyes that go wide. "She what?"

"Hit me with her cane in _my bar_." He rubs the back of his neck. "And said something to the effect of 'shame on you for hurting Zoe'." He does his best Delia, which isn't the great.

"Wade, I never, I didn't-" Zoe looks at him like a deer in the headlights and this was worthless. The damage was done.

"Look, just keep your mouth shut about me, all right? I've got enough on my mind without having to worry about being attacked in my own bar."

He leaves without looking back.

**o000o**

The next day, Wade visits Lavon's kitchen for breakfast. Zoe is nowhere to be seen, but Lavon slaps his hand away when he reaches for some bacon.

"Seriously?" Wade shakes his hand because it hurt a little.

"Seriously." Lavon replies. "No news. No food."

Wade scoffs. "Then you'll be waiting awhile, 'cause there is nothing to tell."

He manages to snag an apple while Lavon isn't looking.

**o000o**

Zoe hasn't been into the Rammer Jammer since their altercation in his house. He isn't sure exactly how he feels about that.

Wade keeps a bottle of chardonnay on hand though, just in case she stops by, and wonders just what it would feel like if she did.

**o000o**

Three days later, he is killing it in Halo when his door swings open. Lavon steps in, he jumps and pauses the game.

"Lavon! Have you ever heard of knocking?" Wade says and remembers the last time someone knocked on his door. He can still see Zoe's face crumble and he needs to see anything but that. "Grab a controller. It is always easier with two."

Lavon doesn't grab a controller. He pulls the hat off of his head and looks Wade dead in the eye. It is pretty clear this isn't a social visit. Wade braces himself, but he was still not prepared for the left hook of Lavon's words.

Lavon goes for the throat. "Zoe loves you."

Wade balks. He tosses his controller onto the couch.

"That's old news, Lavon." He crosses his arms and sticks his tongue into his cheek. "Tell me something the whole town doesn't already know."

Lavon looks a little taken aback, like he hadn't expected Wade to be so flippant, but he regains his footing.

"Yeah. Well. Then maybe you want to explain why are you acting like this isn't everything you've wanted since she first got here." Lavon says.

"Come on, Lavon." Wade says like he hasn't been trying to unravel that yarn himself.

"No. _You _come on. Cause from where I am standing, the only thing getting between Wade Kinsella and Zoe Hart being the happiest couple in Bluebell is Wade Kinsella." Lavon is a big man, that fact had never escaped Wade, but from where he sits Lavon _towers. _

"It's not a good idea," he says, not sure he quite believes that line himself. "We've gone down this road before."

"So have I. Not with Big Z," He holds up his hands when Wade makes a face. "With Lemon. Now that was a long time ago and things went sour. We both made mistakes, but just because it didn't work out the first time around doesn't mean I am not going to fight for her when she gets off that boat."

Wade's eyes shot wide. "Wait - you are going after Lemon again?"

"Not the point." He gives Wade a look that warns against changing the subject. "The real point is you better think long and hard about whatever hold ups you have because Zoe is a good girl, and you may not get another shot at her."

Lavon's words hit low and hard. His stomach turns at the thought of Zoe being with someone else, but turns doubly at the thought of putting his heart in those tiny hands again.

"Is that all?" Wade needs it to be all or else he may lose his lunch.

Lavon shuffles his feet and fiddles with his hat. "You're never going to tell me what happened the other day to make Zoe get wound up so tight, are you?"

"Nope." Wade doesn't hesitate.

"Then yeah. Yeah I suppose that is it."

"Well alright then. See ya around, Lavon."

Wade grabs his controller and picks up where he left off before Lavon is out the door, but he can't focus. He keeps dying. How is he supposed to obliterate the covenant when all he can think of is Lavon reminding him that Zoe - Zoe fucking Hart - is his for the taking and he is sitting on his ass playing Halo. Alone.

This is so not what he needs right now.

He throws the controller back onto the couch and scrubs a hand over his face.

"Dammit, Lavon!" He says to no one and goes to his fridge. He is out of beer, so he decides that even this is his day off, he'd rather spend it working than thinking about how all signs point to the fact that he is making the biggest mistake of his life.

**o000o**

That night is busier than usual at the Rammer Jammer. Austin University's swim team is passing through, and he is up to his eyeballs in I.D.s and collegiate cleavage. He isn't complaining because it is just the kind of distraction he needs right now. Zoe barely enters his mind until some kid orders something top shelf.

He reached up and grabs the bottle. As he does, his fingers bump the package he's been trying to best forget. It falls to the floor. He stares at it for one second before someone calls for another drink. He kicks it with his boot and sends it skittering into a shadow. He leaves it there for the rest of the night.

**o000o**

Wanda knocks on his cracked office door.

"Yeah?" He is trying to make the number work for the third time before closing the books for the night.

"Just wanted you to know I've got the bar closed down." She looks a bit like Burt Reynolds after he eats something funny and he should stop giving her so many night shifts. Pregnancy is taking its toll.

"Great. Thanks." He nods and looks back at the books. "Lock up on your way out. I've gotta finish some stuff here."

It takes him a moment to realize she is still standing in the doorway.

He sighs. "What is it, Wanda?"

"Well I just wanted you to know I found this behind the bar and I don't know what it is. Maybe somebody left it on accident?" She holds out Zoe's gift, much less put together than the day she gave it to him, and he feels a storm brewing.

"Put it on the desk." He nods his head, not daring to touch it. She does. "Thanks. See ya tomorrow."

Wanda smiles really big. "See ya tomorrow."

**o000o**

He doesn't finish the books. He can't. He spends the rest of the night just staring at the stupid box right where Wanda left it.

The tape has come loose in places and the ribbon is missing entirely. There are little tears on the corners. Somehow all of this makes it more appealing, less offensive. Like this, all rumpled and ugly, it finally feels like something he deserves and something clicks in his chest at that thought.

_The only thing getting between Wade Kinsella and Zoe Hart being the happiest couple in Bluebell is Wade Kinsella._

Lavon's voice echoes in the quiet of his office, and this time Wade listens. Self-sabotage with flair has always been his M.O, but not this time. This time he isn't going to be afraid of deserving something good.

The sun is just up when he grabs the box and doesn't stop running until he is on her porch. Something jitters in his chest, lose and frantic, and he needs to do this before it settles back down.

She opens the door when he knocks, rubbing sleep from her eyes. It is still early, right, shit he should have waited until -

"Wade?" Her hair has a funny poof on one side from where she slept on it. "What - are you hurt?"

"No - uh - could I come in?" He'll ask this time because this is important and he wants to get it right.

She blinks at him like he is some kind of dream, but steps to one side. He goes in and the smell of her, of her house, hits him like a hurricane. His heart struggles to beat. He feels his throat tighten. He looks at the box in his hand and tries to remember why this was a good idea.

She shuffles in behind him, the slow motion to his fast forward, and he cannot ignore the way the flimsy material of her pajamas hides so little. He bounces on his toes.

"We need to talk." He says.

"Coffee." Is all she says and she pushes a hand through her tangled hair.

She is not a morning person. He remembers that now and this is earlier than morning. The hour is downright ungodly. Dammit why hadn't he waited like a normal person? This is all wrong. Everything about it, about them, was a mess from the get-go. It always had been, and somehow, that is exactly why he is here.

She presses a button and Wade can hear the electricity draining into that stupid fancy coffee machine. Her tiny shoulders heave as she yawns, her back to him, and tries not to stare at her ass.

"You want some?" She doesn't turn around.

If he drinks coffee right now he will burst right out of his skin, but he doesn't want to upset her, so: "Yeah. Sure. Thanks"

She presses the button again and they wait through the hum. Afterwards she drifts over, a mug in each hand, and hands one to him. He takes it, skin sparking where their fingers brush, and holds it. She goes over to her bed and sits. He stays standing in front of her couch, box in one hand, coffee in the other, and here went everything.

"Do you still love me?" He asks and she frowns. "Because if you don't, if this has been too much for you, then I get it."

It takes her a minute, thoughts slow with sleep, but she shakes her head. "No. I still love you. I told you - I am in this no matter what."

"Yeah? Because -" _I was an ass_, but he can't quite say it. "Yeah. Okay. Good." He takes a moment.

A moment becomes two, or three, or ten, until Zoe yawns again - and oh yeah he has a reason for being here.

"I deserve to be happy." He blurts and realizes how odd and selfish that sounds. "I mean - everyone deserves to be happy - but I am included in that."

She tilts her head, and it looks like she is still just trying to wake up. "What?"

"I deserve to be happy." He repeats and there is more to it. He knows there is more to that thought, but for the life of him….

"Are you drunk again?" She looks like she may fall back over into her pile of designer bedding at any moment and knock out. He knows just what she looks like when she sleeps and the memory makes him ache.

"No. No - I swear it. Zoe - It's just -" He looks at the box in his hand. He pauses, takes a deep breath, and then meets her eyes again. "You ran away from me." He says, and by the flash of confusion on her face it is clear she still doesn't follow.

"I what?" She rubs her temple. It is too early….

He swallows and tries to think. He has to get this right because he knows this is it. This is his last chance. So he just starts talking.

"I told you I loved you - and you ran away. I didn't hear from you for _months_ and then you come back with a boyfriend and -" He is getting off track. Joel wasn't part of this. "You ran and I - I can't do that again. I want to be happy. I _deserve_ to be happy and I want to be with you, but I can't give you that much of me again if you are just going to leave me behind."

She is staring at him. Sleep is long gone. He doesn't realize his hands are shaking until coffee jumps out and scalds him. He sets down both the mug and the box, but regrets it because now he has no clue what to do with his hands. He shoves them in his pockets.

"I had no idea." She looks down at her coffee. "Wade, I am so sorry. I - I thought I was gone. Back then, that summer, I never thought I was coming back. I never… I thought Bluebell was my past."

He notices that she says 'Bluebell' instead of 'Wade Kinsella', but he knows in this situation they are synonymous.

"And now? What is Bluebell to you now?" His blood runs so hot he feels like his skin is peeling off.

She looks back up at him, brown eyes soft. "Now Bluebell is everything to me."

A lump catches in his throat and he cannot pull a breath.

"Is that so?" He manages.

She nods. "Yeah. That's so."

He clears his throat and rubs a hand over his mouth. He can hardly process what he is hearing. "So you're planning on sticking with Bluebell for awhile?"

"I plan on sticking with Bluebell as long as they will have me."

Wade Kinsella doesn't cry. That isn't his style, but her words sear an old wound in his chest shut, and he feels that burn all the way up into his eyes.

"I think Bluebell would like that. I think - I think they may love that." He isn't sure why he is whispering or why her eyes are so shiny.

He is about to come around her coffee table and gather her up into his arms when she smiles and points.

"You never opened my gift."

He looks down at the forgotten box, the box that had gotten him here in the first place, and he can't understand why it is so important now.

"Uh - no. Just never seemed like the right time." He stalls in his spot.

"Now." She says and he almost reminds her that she told him he could open it on his time, but he doesn't want to spoil the moment.

He tears off the paper, not caring a wink for the mess, and rips open the box. Inside there is a wine opener. He turns it over in his hand.

"You know I own a bar, right? I have a few of these." He doesn't understand what all the fuss is about, but then he sees the twinkle in her eye.

"Well - that opener is reserved for one very special bottle of chardonnay. That's right, I said bottle - not box from the Dixie Stop." She unfolds her legs off of her bed and goes to the minifridge on the wall. She sets her coffee on top and bends over. He doesn't even try to not oogle her ass this time. "That opener is for the 1978 Domaine de la Romanee-Conti Montrachet that my mother sent me that is guaranteed to get me in just the right mood."

She pulls out a bottle, and just looks at her with those huge eyes. He isn't sure what she wants him to do, to say, but it only takes a few long strides before he catches her up in his arms.

"Darlin', if I remember right I don't need any fancy wine to get you in the mood."

He leans in and tries to kiss her, but she pulls back. He looks at her with a question.

"Tell me you love me." She says and presses a little palm against his plaid shirt,

"Zoe…" He tries to kiss her again and she pushes against his chest.

"Say it."

"What do you think I am trying to do?" He is tempted to walk right out, but then he would be right where they started. That was nowhere he wanted to be.

"With words." She says and it takes effort not to roll his eyes.

"Seriously?" He can feel the heat of her bleeding into him through the thin fabric of her pajamas.

"Seriously." She sets the wine on top of her fridge.

He sighs and settles in around her because he'd better get used to saying this since he plans on never stopping.

"I love you, Zoe Hart." The words trip off of his tongue, and they aren't as difficult as he imagined they might be.

He's never seen New York City, but he is pretty sure her smile rivals all of its lights in this moment

"You do?" She asks and that is all he can take.

He takes her mouth and it is everything. His hands slips over the curve of her spine, into the mess of her hair, and dammit this is everything. She is everything, everything, everything.

He pulls back for a breath and looks her in the eye.

"Seems like I remember you being pretty tired when I first stopped by." He says, fingers spreading out against the warmth of her cheek.

She quirks an eyebrow. "Well you did kind of wake me up at six in the morning."

"Then let's get you back to bed."

He hikes her up over his shoulder before she has a chance to protest. She squeals. He smiles. Three steps until he throws her down on top of the covers and crawls up over her body. She is spread out underneath him, wanting and gorgeous, and he will never be sure how he didn't fall right into this the moment he had the chance.

He leans in to kiss her again, and she holds him back one more time.

"But the wine -" She starts but he cuts her off.

"Darlin', we have the rest of our lives to get to that." He leans in again and she doesn't stop him.

Neither of them leave her bed for the rest of the morning. As far as Wade is concerned, it is the greatest start to the rest of his life he could have asked for.

**o000o**

.

**A/N: **Well. There it is. That is it. Not nearly as edited or proofed as it should be, but it is what it is. I hope you enjoyed!

Thank you everyone that read and will read in the future. Can't wait to see what season 4 holds. All I can say is some great Zade moments better be in there or else… I am not sure. My threat game is weak.

Anyway. A million thank to those that read. A million billion thanks to those that reviewed/favorited/followed.

Like what you read? Stalk me on twitter and tumblr and tell me what you want to see.

Twitter: **ravenswrite**

Tumblr: **ravenwritesstuff DOT tumblr DOT com**


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